Up and Down
by redheadedsweetheart
Summary: Jessalynn is the youngest daughter of WWE legend Stone Cold Steve Austin. She is a mess of emotion, a whirlwind that creates drama wherever she goes. It's not her fault, however. She's been battling Bipolar Disorder since her teenage years. Her moods change quickly and without notice. Complete summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

Up and Down

Summary: Jessalynn is the youngest daughter of WWE legend Stone Cold Steve Austin. She grew up in the business, but unlike her four older sisters, she has decided not to work for the WWE. Katelynn is an up and coming future Diva's champion. Miranda is the first woman ever on the commentary team. Amanda is a veteran Diva. Abby is Stephanie McMahon's right hand.

Jessalynn is a mess of emotion, a whirlwind that creates drama wherever she goes. It's not her fault, however. She's been battling Bipolar Disorder since her teenage years. Her moods change quickly and without notice. The mood disorder takes a toll on her professional and personal life. She runs through boyfriends like there is no tomorrow. She works intermittently. She's turned down numerous offers from her father to help her get a steady job at the company. He knows that her background in sales and marketing could help ground her at the WWE. He's confident that if she would just come home and work out of the Houston satellite office in the sales department, she would settle down. He could also keep a closer eye on her.

While the rest of the family has their homebase in various cities in their home state of Texas, Jessalynn left for the frozen tundra of Chicago after graduating from A & M. She lives alone in a studio apartment and works part time for a nonprofit soliciting donations. Because of her disorder, she finds it hard to work a full forty hours a week. Her on and off boyfriend, Scott, lives in the same building and is a semi-professional wrestler under the ring name Colt Cabana. Scott tries his hardest to live with her and love her despite her moods. It's the hardest thing he's ever had to deal with.

Follow Jessalynn and her ups and downs as she tries to navigate through life.

Characters: Jessalynn Austin (oc), Stone Cold Steve Austin, Colt Cabana, CM Punk and others.

Story begins in early 2011.

Chapter 1: Down

"Babe, you have to get out of bed," Scott said softly as he stroked my hair. "You can't stay here all day, you have to go to work….."

I shook my head "no" and wiped the never ending tears from my face. "I can't go back there. Please don't…..make me go, Scotty….." I sobbed as I leaned into his broad chest where the tears kept flowing.

"Jessa, you're overreacting. You're fine. You have to go to work. They're gonna fire you if you don't go."

"Let them fire me then. I don't care….I don't care about anything," I wailed as I moved away from my boyfriend and threw myself down on the bed again. I pulled the quilt over my head and broke down again.

Scott sighed. He rubbed my back through the blanket. "Babe…...have you been taking your meds?" he asked softly.

I whipped the blanket off of me and sat up. Glaring at him, "Why is it," I snarled, "that any time I'm feeling down, or sad, or pissed off, you automatically assume that I'm not taking my medication?" I was pissed. My mood had changed from 'woe is me', the world is horrible, to bitch in a matter of seconds.

Scott had been with me long enough to know better than to assume I was off my meds anytime that I wasn't feeling like myself. Though most of the time, I was feeling down because I had stopped taking them. It was a never ending cycle with me. I needed those medications to help keep myself stable, but I always stopped taking them when I started to feel better. Then things like this would happen-and I would cry and stay in bed for days at a time. And whenever he tries to help me, I would lash out at him. Dating me is like the weather-always changing and highly unpredictable. All he could do was apologize and hope I didn't freak out and break up with him. Again. "I'm sorry, hon…...I'm just…..I'm sorry, okay?" he said softly as he reached for me. I slapped his hand away.

"Just don't. Just….leave me alone," I snarled at him.

I sat crossed legged on the bed, pulled the quilt over my shoulders and glared at the wall. If I sat here long enough, not speaking to him, he would leave. And that's all I wanted him to do right now. Leave. I don't know why he puts up with me. He's the sweetest guy I've ever dated. And I've been through plenty of men.

He broke his usual record of waiting for me to talk to him. He will usually only wait five minutes of the cold shoulder. He must have been really worried about me. Today he waited thirteen minutes.

Finally he let out a big sigh and attempted to kiss me on the cheek. I moved my head so his lips wouldn't touch me. "You better call into work then. You know you'll feel horrible if they fire you….I'll call you later?"

Silence.

"I love you?" he whispered as he patted my knee and got off the bed. "Babe?"

I just sat there in silence. Not only was I moody and sad today, I was being stubborn. I knew he loved me. And I loved him too. Somedays. Other days I wanted to break up with him. He was too patient, too loving, too perfect. I didn't deserve him. But he was always there for me, even when I was acting like this.

He wasn't leaving until I told him I loved him. I just wanted him to go. To leave me here to wallow in my own self pity. He knelt in front of me, and reached up to take my chin in his big hands. "Please look at me….." he murmured.

I felt the tears start to well up in my eyes again. I just wanted him to go away so I could cry and feel sorry for myself in peace. "Please?" he whispered. I shook my head no. Why wouldn't he understand that I just wanted him to go away?

"Scott. Please just leave….I…..I want to be alone. I want you to leave."

"I don't want to leave you like this."

"I'll be fine."

He chuckled. "You are far from fine. You-"

"Get out! I want you to leave!" I finally screamed at him. "Why don't you understand that I just want to lay here and feel sorry for myself? Are you stupid? Do you not see that I don't want you here?" I was breathing hard. My heart was pounding. I could feel my anxiety rising. Harsh words were just tumbling out of my mouth, and I couldn't stop them.

He just stared at me with those big brown eyes. He let out a big sigh. "You know something? One of these days you're going to tell me to leave and I won't come back. I'm getting tired of this." He stood up and started walking towards the door. "I love you, Jessalynn. I really do love you, but you need help."

"Get out!" I screeched at him, pointing towards the door, tears were freely streaming down my cheeks.

He shook his head. "You're acting like a crazy woman. Take your damn meds,"

I picked up the vase of flowers that were on my nightstand and got ready to throw it at him. He closed the door behind him and the vase crashed against the wall without inflicting any pain.

I let out a wail and threw myself down on my bed. I sobbed for the broken vase of beautiful flowers that he had just bought me. I sobbed because I couldn't control my emotions. I cried because I hated my life. I cried because I was such a bitch and didn't deserve a good man like him. He was right; if I kept pushing him away, there was always the chance that he wouldn't come back to me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Down

I haven't talked to Scott in three days. Every morning I call work and tell them I'm still sick. Today will be the fourth day that I've called in and let them know I won't be in today. They know I'm lying and I'm certain that if I don't show up tomorrow, I won't have a job. After I force myself to call work, I go back to sleep I'll sleep until noon or one o'clock and then stay in bed. I don't eat, I don't leave my apartment.

The phone rings, but I don't answer it. My voicemail has at least six unheard messages and I don't bother to listen to them. My caller ID shows that my mom, two of my sisters and my dad have called. But I don't bother to call them back. Scott has texted me a total of twelve times, but I don't respond to him. This depression is the worst that I've felt in a long time. I literally can't do anything but lay in bed. I eat enough to stop my stomach from hurting. I haven't showered in four days. All I do is stare at the television and everything I watch makes me cry.

I wander into the bathroom, open the medicine cabinet and stare at my meds. I take Zonegram to keep my mood stable. Prozac to keep me from being sad. Abilify to keep my highs from getting too high. Propranel to keep my anxiety under control. I have to take these four medications to keep myself normal. I hate them. I hate them so much. I hate the fact that I'm not normal. I hate that I have to go to therapy every two weeks. I hate that I have to drive across the city and see a special doctor to prescribe these meds for me. I hate that when I get down I push everyone that I love far away. I love the highs, though. I love the manic part of my disorder. I love the random sex, the racing thoughts, the great ideas. I'm either utterly obsessed with things, or completely disinterested. There is no in between. I know what I have to do. I can't keep living like this. I can't keep pushing people away. I think about Scott. I don't want to lose him. He's the only boyfriend that I've ever had that has been patient enough with me to not walk away.

With great reluctance, I open the pill bottles and take out the prescribed doses. I wander into the kitchen and get a glass of water. I take all eight pills, grimacing the whole time. After I take my pills, I go into the bathroom and turn the shower on as hot as it will go. It's been four days since I've showered. My hair is greasy and I look like hell.

After my shower, I blow dry my hair and style my auburn hair. I apply makeup and start to feel like my old self. It will take a few days, and being dedicated to my med schedule before I start to feel better, but it's a start.

I go into my bedroom, make the bed and start picking up the room. It's a mess. After the room is clean, I take my phone out into the living room and sit down on the couch. I've got some phone calls and messages to return. I start with Scott.

His messages are all the same: I'm sorry. Please call me. I'm worried about you. I love you. Please don't give up on us. Babe, babe, babe, babe.

I take a deep breath and dial his number. I light a cigarette while I wait for him to answer. The phone rings several times before his voicemail kicks in. Immediately tears fill my eyes. I automatically assume that he's ignoring my call. When I'm down like this, I always assume the worst. My anxiety kicks into overdrive as I listen to his outgoing message.

"Hey you've reached Scott. Leave me a message." Beep. I hang up. I don't know what to say to his voicemail. I was hoping to reach him.

.

.

Later that night, after I've returned all the voicemails that I have from my sisters, I lay down on the couch and turn the television on and flip through the channels before I finally settle on a movie that I've watched a million times. I watch the movie for a little bit before I pick up my phone and stare at, trying to decide if I should try Scott again. It's been almost six hours since I tried his phone. I honestly have no idea if he's even in the city. He's a professional wrestler that travels a lot for the independent circuit. I don't remember if he told me if he was traveling this week.

I stare at my phone, willing it to ring with a call, or even a text, from my boyfriend of almost 10 months. It's been a long ten months. I told him right at the beginning of our relationship that I had Bipolar. The majority of the men I date will only put up with my moods for a few weeks, maybe a month, before they get tired of it and leave me. But not Scott. He didn't run. He's seen me through my high ups, my stable time and the terrifying lows.

Even though I'm staring at my phone, it still startles me when it starts ringing. I look at the caller ID, expecting to see Scott's name, but instead I sigh when I see the name. Phil. Scott's best friend. I don't really care for Phil. He's kind of a dick. He's always scowling and I get the feeling that it doesn't really like me dating his best friend. Another reason that I don't really like him, is that there's some….tension between us. I try not to think about it, but he's blatantly come out and addressed it.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's Phil."

"Hi….."

"Are you home?" he asks quickly in his low voice.

"Yes…..'

"I'm coming over." Click.

I let out a big sigh. I don't want him to come over. I don't really like his company. I don't want him to see me when I'm down like this. And I'm sure he knows that I'm down; he's probably talked to Scott and knows the whole story.

Ten minutes later there's a quick knock at my door and then it opens. He never waits for me to answer the door or to invite him in. Phil walks in like he owns the place. "What's the matter with you?" he demands. No hello, no how are you.

"Just feeling down the last couple of days…." I say softly as I turn off the television. I know that he wants my full attention and if I don't give it to him when he's here, he'll be even more annoying than he usually is; which is very annoying.

"Taking your meds?" he asks sharply. He doesn't wait for me to answer. "I know you haven't been taking them, so don't even lie to me and say that you have been." He stands in front of me, arms crossed against his chest, his hazel eyes staring me down, daring me to lie to his face about what I haven't been doing.

"No, I haven't," I finally say quietly.

"Why the hell not," again he doesn't wait for me to answer him. "You're putting my buddy through hell worrying about you. Not to mention the fact that you're not going to be healthy unless you take them. Let me guess, you haven't left this apartment in about a week. You probably made up some bullshit excuse for not going to work and you've been spending all day in bed feeling sorry for yourself, right?"

I nod. I don't bother trying to say something in my defense; he'll just give me a list of reasons why I'm wrong and why he's right. "I tried calling him earlier…..he didn't answer and he hasn't called me back."

"Do you blame him, do you really blame him? He said that he tried to make you feel better and all you did was scream at him to get out. You can't keep treating him like this and then expect him to want to be with you." His eyes were flashing with anger and annoyance at me. This isn't the first time that he's come over here to verbally kick my ass about the way I treat his friend when I'm depressed. "One of these days he isn't going to come back."

"I know…."

"If you know, then why do you keep doing it? Huh? I get that you got some bullshit going on in your head, but damn it…..That big lug loves you. All he ever talks about when I see him is you. You are always on his mind and he's always trying to find ways to make you happy and yet you keep treating him like shit."

"Why are you here, Phil? I don't understand-"

"I'm here to make sure you get back on those pills and you straighten your shit out. I'm here because my best friend is beside himself with worry over some girl who obviously doesn't give a shit about him-"

"I do give a shit about him-"

"Then fucking act like it, woman!" He was standing in front of me, glaring down at me, daring me to get mad and fight back.

"You don't understand-"

"Oh, I do understand. I understand that you're a selfish bitch that is taking advantage of my buddy's good nature. I understand that you're jerking him around. I understand that-"

"You don't know shit, Phil!" I scream back at him. I had had enough. It was time for Mr. Brooks to leave. I stood up, my heart racing, my anxiety was starting to rise. "You don't know what it's like to have to rely on four different kind of pills to make sure that you feel normal. You don't know what it's like to feel like your life is spinning out of control and that there is nothing you can do to stop it! You don't know what it's like to have someone who cares for you so much, but all your brain tells you to do is tell him to fuck off! I love him-"

"Then you need to start acting like you do! Fucking pull yourself out of this slump, take the damn pills, go to your therapy appointment and for Christ's sake, don't stop taking them!" he screamed back at me. He was breathing hard, getting all those words out at once.

I wanted to slap him across the face. "Don't even think about slapping me," he said softly. "I'm here because you need a dose of the truth. Again. You can't keep doing this. To yourself and to Scott."

At the mention of Scott's name, I burst into tears. "Ah, shit. Don't start crying," he mumbled. He stood there for a few seconds and watched me break down. He stared at me for a little bit longer before he dropped to his knees and held out his arms. I started sobbing harder as he pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. "Stop crying….you'll be alright," he whispered in my ear. Pushing my hair away from my neck, he rests his head in the crook of my neck.

This scene happens more than I like to admit. I break down and yell at Scott. He leaves and whines to his best friend that I'm acting crazy. Phil shows up as soon as he's back in town and comes over. He yells at me. I cry. He doesn't feel bad but can't stand to see me cry. He hugs me and my brain starts thinking about things that I shouldn't be thinking about. I'm messed up in the head. Because even though I'm crying because of how I've treated Scott, I can't help but think of how Phil's lips would taste on mine….


End file.
